Keep Writing
by sultal
Summary: Based on a true story.
1. Chapter 1: Shit

**Chapter 1: Shit**

I was annoyed. A little.

Really, only a little.

I mean, when you're in graduate school and clocking 15+ hours in clinic smack dab in the middle of midterm season, your brain gets pretty fried.

So, it's not like I was apathetic about the _Disney meet and greet_.

I love _Disney_.

To be brutally honest I was "that girl" in a class of 25 year old cohorts. But today, I was unhappy _Disney_ girl. Annoyed _Disney_ girl. I-just-don't-have-the-energy-or-time-to-care-that-much _Disney_ girl.

So, with a chip on my shoulder, sleep on my mind, and three exams on my conscience, I ordered the largest _cinnamon–almond –double–mocha latte_ on the menu, parked my butt in a chair, flipped open my _Kinesiology of the Musculoskeletal System: Foundations for Rehabilitation_ text book, and waited for this whole dumb meet-and-greet thing to be over.

I had signed up for this _Disney_ meet and greet under….happier circumstances.

Last summer. That's when had I signed up.

I grunted into my coffee, remembering.

It had been a good day. Last day of finals. I'd aced my _Movement_ exam and totally owned the _Spinal Cord Injury Rehabilitation_ practical.

It was May, the sun was shining, my favorite band was playing locally on Saturday, and my hair happened to look fantastic (which in itself is a miracle). To top it off, I'd just bought new _Saucony's_ (for TWENTY dollars – shipping included) that were orange, aquamarine, and blue-violet – all my favorite colors.

Basically I was Jennifer _freaking_ Lawrence.

Invincible. Confident. Stunning.

And I was ready to start my month of vacation with the best run of my life.

And it WAS the best run of my life! I pumped 8 miles of glorious road in my twenty dollar _Sauconies_. Uphill, downhill, gravel, grass, tidal wave – you name it. I ran it.

That's when…I saw the flyer.

It was one of those flyers stapled to a telephone pole on top of a zillion other flyers. But this flyer was different. It…was glittering – appropriately because it was drenched in glitter.

…I was in a good mood.

…So at that time glitter was super attractive.

…So I read it:

_**DISNEY MEET AND GREET**_

**MEET THE ORIGINAL, REAL LIVE DISNEY CHARACTERS**

**NOVEMBER 1 OF NEXT YEAR**

**REFER TO THE REGISTRATION NUMBER BELOW**

**BE THERE**

**DON'T MISS OUT**

**I'M TALKING TO YOU**

**!NO KIDDING!**

**(HAVE A MAGICAL DAY)**

It was signed by Mickey Mouse.

"No way!" I had blurted, taking the flyer and stuffing it in my sports bra. Laughing, I turned my iPod to some _Disney_ song or another to finish the workout. "No way!"

_Way_.

Long story short, here I was…couple of months later, stressed out of my mind, drinking a five dollar coffee in a room full of art school rejects and five year olds.

Embarrassed, I slammed my textbook shut. A couple of thespians with nose rings and major attitudes gave me the once over as I stuffed _Kinesiology of the Musculoskeletal System_ under my arm.

"Who the Hell am I kidding." I muttered, darkly apologetic to whoever was judging me. Hiding behind loose hair, I charged for the exit. "I don't belong here anymore."

_BAM_.

The second I turned the door handle, everything went black.

Of course.

Everything also went silent. Beautifully, utterly silent.

Then…

…golden sprigs sprouted across the room. Shyly at first, intertwining and collapsing into dribbles of sparkles. Then, without warning – I mean, I kinda jumped – the golden sparkles sucked together and exploded. Fireworks sizzled to the ceiling, falling like pixie dust on our upturned faces until a very familiar voice said:

"Hi-ya folks!"

Mickey. Mickey Mouse. M-I-C-K-E-Y-M-O-U-S-E!

My mouth dropped. My jaw hit the floor.

He was real. Sure the flyer advertised it but…who would have believed?

I turned to one of the five year olds. I blurted something unintelligible and pointed at Mickey Mouse.

She gave me a look that basically translated to _duh_.

"Welcome one! Welcome all! Welcome to the _Disney_ Meet and Greet!"

I sat.

The air started to shimmer as the particles vibrated to the tune of "Be Our Guest." Cool.

"We're all happy to have ya!" Mickey Mouse said. His white gloves glowed as he swept his arms.

"And boy oh boy was it a hassle to get ya all! Although it may seem those flyers were happy coincidences randomly placed, each and every one of you was actually_chosen_ to be here tonight!"

I blinked. My proverbial butt slammed hard onto reality.

_Excuse me? Chosen to be here to tonight?_ I thought of the glittery flyer and its irresistible charm – so irresistible that I stopped in the middle of my workout to look at it.

Minorly paranoid and majorly annoyed at the swooning nose-ringed thespians, my first thought was: _Um ok…creepy._

My second thought was: _Why me?_

Mickey Mouse beamed. "I suppose you are all wondering 'why me?'"

_Like Hell you suppose right!_

"You have been chosen…" continued Mickey Mouse, addressing the audience at large. "…because you need a little help. Everyone here needs something different. A little guidance. A little motivation. A little encouragement. A little friendship."

I swear Mickey Mouse looked straight at me. "A little kick in the pants."

My heart stopped. Then it did this crazy somersault in my throat. It took a few more laps around my rib cage as Mickey Mouse continued with his speech.

"Whatever or whichever the reason….you are here. And we are here. All of us. To help. With a little faith. A little trust. And…."

"_Just a little bit of pixie dust!" _sang the thespians, five year olds, and art school rejects in rhythm.

I did not partake. My voice tingled but it didn't get to my tongue or past my reservations. Smothering my guilt in skepticism, I glared at the sticky-notes curling out of my _Kinesiology _textbook.

"Each of you will be visited by three characters." Mickey Mouse said. "These characters _represent you_. Your personality. Your dreams. Your goals. Your fears. Your secrets. You will meet them. You will speak with them. It will be just like looking in a mirror."

Excitement buzzed in orchestral tones. I held _Kinesiology of the Musculoskeletal System_ against my stomach. It felt like cannibal butterflies were having a war down there.

Why was everyone so excited? I _hated_ self-assessing.

And pardon my French but _how the Hell_ could these _Disney_ characters know anything about me? About my life? About my responsibilities? About my…

….secrets?

No. I was not going to be vulnerable. No way.

Resolve bolstered, I stood up. I turned to leave for a second time.

I stopped.

Every single _Disney_ character ever made….was there. They lined every wall, filled every corner, blocked every exit.

I was breathless. Utterly breathless. So…hugging my textbook…I sat.

Mickey Mouse smiled.

"Time for the first character….mark, set, go."

I don't know why….I really don't…but I closed my eyes.

I heard Genie from _Aladdin_ high fiving one of the nose-ringed thespians.

I heard Ariel from The _Little Mermaid_ saying "Hi!" to one of the art school rejects.

I heard Anna from _Frozen_ kneeling by the five year old.

Then, I heard someone tapping the hardcover of _Kinesiology of the Musculoskeletal System_.

Heart going ballistic, I opened my eyes.

"Shit. I _would_ get you."


	2. Chapter 2: Our Fears

**Chapter 2: Our Fears**

Captain Hook.

Captain _freaking_ Hook.

"The pleasure…." said the pirate, dislodging his hook from my textbook cover. He sat. Cool and contemptuous as the hook on his left hand. "…is all mine."

_Great…now he was being sarcastic._ All we both needed to exacerbate an unpleasant situation.

Looking around, I waited for Mickey Mouse to tell Captain Hook to buzz off and go destroy someone else's life.

_No such luck._

I caught the eye of Anna and five year old. Both looked super sympathetic, but offered zero assistance. Desperately, I looked to the thespians and art-rejects. They all gave me looser signs.

_Cute._ I guess reckless acts of defiance against self-admitted villains only exist in the movies.

Well! This sleep-deprived girl was looking for a fight anyway!

Fired up and ready to argue, I returned to Captain Hook.

A fistful of his blue-eyed gaze punched me right in the face. Choking on my objections, I stared.

Captain Hook's eyes were so blue. So blue! Aquamarine with a white explosion stretching from tiny, black pupil. The intensity was paralyzing.

Mesmerized, I kept staring as Captain Hook's gaze captured me like a spider web. In the back of my mind, I wondered what could break the spell.

"Blasted. Look at you. I consider this a shanghaied evening. Wasted."

Spell broken. Problem solved.

"Join the club." I muttered. Still a little awed, I picked at the hole he punctured into _Kinesiology of the Musculoskeletal System_. "I have a midterm coming up that I just started studying for."

He raised an eyebrow. "Midterm?"

"A test."

"A test? For what purpose?"

I glared. "Assessment and intervention of musculoskeletal insult and pathology."

Captain Hook smiled. Somehow, I got the impression he knew I was purposely speaking in non-layman terms to make him uncomfortable.

Clearly, it was not working.

"Verily…" Captain Hook smoothed a finger over his moustache. "You are a physician?"

My fingers dug into the hardcover. "No. Sort of. It's a doctorate program. Physical therapy."

"Explain."

I rolled my eyes. "A doctor of muscles. Movement. Physical therapy."

He scoffed. "Useless profession."

_Oh. No. He. Didn't._

"Ex_cuse _me?" I said, ignoring the secret smiles exchanged by the thespians and art rejects. "Physical therapy is not useless! People depend on me to move. That's huge. I mean come on, what greater gift –"

"Until you can teach man to fly…" Captain Hook interrupted, perfecting a dirty nail with his hook"….then I query the worth of your services."

"Oh that's rich!" I blurted, pointing at his hook. "Dude, you have an amputation! I treat people with amputated legs, arms, and sometimes both – "

"—That, my Dear, is laughable." said Captain Hook. Grinning ferociously, he raised his hook. "I taught myself, trained myself, and toiled to gain control of this hand."

"That's a hook. Not a hand. We call them prosthetics."

"Never –" continued the captain, twisting his hook at my face. "—Never did I grovel for the assistance of a scrimpy little wench. No. Through my own blood, pain, and anguish –"

"—lovely –"

" – _I _mastered my hand." he growled, digging holes into my textbook. "Me. Myself. Captain James T. Hook."

I shook my head, incredulous that I had to sit through these insults.

"Isn't this supposed to be a compare—and —share—your—personality—thing?" I said, sliding my textbook from under his hook. Glaring, I moved it into my backpack. "Because if so, you're doing a terrible job."

Captain Hook smirked. "My Dear…what exactly do you think we've been doing? We have been comparing personalities."

"Not convinced." I said, sitting back in the chair. Darkly, I crossed my arms. "We are nothing alike. _No way_ you represent a part of me."

"….you think not?"

I paused. Captain Hook spoke placidly, but…threateningly. Uneasily, I shifted, blood freezing in my veins.

"You're the magical fairytale creature." Clearing my throat, I tried to sound confident. "You tell me."

Captain Hook looked at me.

Then, he spoke.

"We…are very much alike."

His eyes flicked up and down like knives, dissecting me.

"You are intelligent but…cunning…sly. Good with words. Acting – or so you call it –but know it to be lying."

My chest dropped somewhere on the floor below my chair. I gaped as the pirate continued.

"And grudges. Oh dear me…grudges." Leering, Captain Hook leaned across the table. "My…my. You hold them maliciously against your heart. They drive you. They make you strong. Just. Like. Me."

I leaned back. Acclimating to the shock, I shook my head, trying to deny the truth.

"That's…that's….I'm _nothing_ like you!"

Captain Hook reached. He clenched my wrist. "Don't be a fool. We are exactly the same."

"Dream on Captain!"

"I know what you fear. _Our_ fears."

"Bowl shit!"

Angrily, I wrenched out of his grip. "You are afraid of a crocodile! And I know that you all _hail_ from Orlando – land of the crocodiles – but all we have to fear up here are snow storms and people that say 'pop' instead of 'soda!' So, _Captain_, why don't you just park your – "

"—you fear embarrassment."

I stopped. An avalanche of memories burned hot in my head. Still, I tried to deny it. "N…no. No I don't. I don't care what people – "

Captain Hook flicked a finger at the door, cutting me off. "Lair. You go out of your way not to be embarrassed. Why…so embarrassed were you to be here, that you nearly walked out."

I scoffed. But my face was blood red. "Stupid. This is so stupid." Hefting my backpack, I turned out of the chair. "I don't have to take this. Whoa!"

Captain Hook darted forward, his arm snapping down like a whip. In a flash, he pinned my sleeve to the table with his hook.

Bag falling from my shoulder, I looked up. "What the —"

Captain Hook's eyes gouged into mine.

"But most of all…." he whispered, placing a finger under my chin, "…you fear…Time."

My heart stopped. In the back of my head, I remembered the _Peter Pan_ movie…and Captain Hook shivering in fear whenever he heard the_ tick tock, tick tock, tick tock…_

"You fear…" Captain Hook breathed through my reverie, "…that you will run out of time. You fear that you will go to school...work...and die. You fear that you will die…without the time to follow your dreams."

Slowly, he twisted the hook from my sleeve. "Not even the time..._to fail_."

Then, Mickey Mouse spoke.

"All righty folks! Switch it up! Time for the second character….mark, set, go."

Emptily, I looked up.

Captain Hook was gone.

And my second Disney character was sitting there instead.


	3. Chapter 3: Our Present

**Chapter 3: Our Present**

"Now THIS is more like it!"

_What do you know? I actually smiled._

Ridiculously excited, I beamed at possibly one of the coolest Disney heroines of all time.

Merida.

Throwing all memory of Captain Hook into my coffee grounds, I slammed into my seat.

"_HI_!" I said, not at all concerned that I was being a little creepy with the whole worship thing. "Hi! Oh God! Oh God! You're Merida! From _Brave_. Sorry – I just love your movie! You're so kick ass! I can't believe that you represent part of me – "

"Sure, sure!" Merida smiled. She looked wistfully at the door before returning to me, fingers running up and down her bow. "Let's get onto it then, yeah? I'm Merida and I represent yer present."

"Cool!" I grinned, immediately seeing the parallels. Good naturedly, I pointed to my head. "But my hair will _never_ be awesome as yours—"

"True or false?" Merida interrupted, talking out a piece of paper. "Ye don't have a boyfriend."

I paused. Boy, was she in a hurry or was it just me?

But…I had to take it easy on her. After all, I was notoriously antsy, active, always on the move. So, if we were alike, then I should take it, because I could certainly dish it.

"True." I answered, flashing a smile. "And I don't need one. Just like you."

Merida nodded. She seemed please. "Don't want te be tied down."

"You know it."

"True or false?" Merida continued. Her eyes jumped over the list. "Ye prefer windy, cloudy days."

"True!" I jounced a little in my seat. _Finally! Someone gets me!_

Merida leaned on her bow. "True or false? Ye love when someone cancels plans and ye are suddenly left wi' surprise alone time."

"True. So true."

"True or false?" Merida said. "One word te describe ye would be this: independent."

I swelled with pride. _My insides were all sorts of sparkly._ _I was just like Merida!_

"True."

"True or false?" Merida looked up from her list. The light shifted, intensifying the blue in her eyes. "Ye hurt people so ye can be alone."

"Tr—what?" I blinked. "Hurt? No! False! I mean…well, I typically don't chill just to chill, but that doesn't hurt people—"

"—True or false?" Merida leaned forward. "Lads have flirted with ye. Boys have ask te court ye. But ye have turned a cold shoulder. Hard and fast."

"Oh come on!" Three boys popped into my head. I cringed, remembering the uneasy partings. "I…well, that's not fair! I'm busy! I – "

"– use schoolwork as an excuse? This sound familiar…?" Merida made air quotes. "'_Sorry_ _I have to study_.'"

My jaw dropped. "That's...I do. I _have_ to study. I'm...stupid...I don't...understand this stuff...I...I...I..."

Merida leaned back. Triumphantly, she rubbed an arrow against her cheek. "Ye can trust me. I know. Doesn't matter who you thwart, does it?"

I shook my head. "I don't – "

"—boys—"

"—I—"

"—friends, old and new—"

"—Merida!—"

"—family—"

"—cut it out!—"

"The only thing that matters te ye! The only thing that motivates ye through thick or thin, good or bad – " Rising, Merida pointed the arrow at my chest. "—is yer freedom. Yer so afraid to lose it, ye are willing te lose everything…_everything_ else."

She looked at me. I sat, completely numb.

"Tis not good. Tis not bad." Merida looked up. Mickey Mouse had clapped his hands, signaling the final switch.

Numbly as I, Merida shouldered her quiver and bow. "Just…tis yer fate. And yer fate alone."

She passed, fiery hair bouncing against my arm. "Jus like me."

Believe you me: I had to try _very_ hard not to cry. It's one thing when a demented pirate tells you you're no good. It's another when your heroine does.

"Oh boy, oh boy!" Mickey Mouse's voice was so cheerful, it hurt. "Last character everyone….mark, set, go."

Well, I'd had just about enough.

Furiously, I bit back tears. _Why the Hell I was still here? _

There was only one _Disney_ character in the entire world that could possibly make me stay.

I looked up.

And there she was.


	4. Chapter 4: Our Dreams

**Chapter 4: Our Dreams**

"…it's. You. _It's you_."

Rapunzel smiled. "And you." she said, pulling a little shyly and a little excitedly on her three-thousand feet of hair. "Hi."

"…hi."

We gazed, green eyes glued to green eyes. It was a moment on the verge of awkward, but more than that. It was…cosmic, surreal, and a touch frightening. I'd only had similar experiences reading old high school agendas or goals I'd made for myself in kindergarten.

Suffice to say: it was weird.

Gently I inhaled, certain that if I ever saw a ghost it would feel like this.

"So…" I said, trying to steer the conversation into calmer waters than the previous two. "…so. You're Rapunzel. From _Tangled_. And…I'm like you. Or you are like me. In…some way. How?"

Rapunzel blinked. Her eyes were literally enormous. "What do you think?"

This time I blinked. _Someone letting me get a word in edgewise. That was new. And appreciated._ My stomach clenched. Well, it was appreciated until I realized that I was being put on the spot.

Rapunzel was staring at me, patiently albeit expectantly. Furiously I thought, digging deep into my _Disney_ Trivia archives. _Okay girl, come on! This is a test! Time to perform! Think! Think! THINK!_

"Hey." Looking twice over her shoulders, Rapunzel leaned. "Relax!" she whispered, cupping her hands so no one could hear. "It's okay if you get it wrong. Just take a deep breath, in and out, and just replay the movie. What am I all about?"

I wanted to tell her that incorrect answers were definitely not okay, but by that time _I Have a Dream_ was bopping around somewhere between my temporal lobe and visual cortex.

_I've got a dream! I've got a dream! Like everybody else I've got a…_

"…dream. Dream." I looked at Rapunzel. "Dreams? Is that it? Do you represent…" doubtfully I shrugged. "…my dreams?"

"Ummmm…." Rapunzel squinshed her nose. Smiling she wobbled back and forth. "Yesssssssorta."

_Yes sorta?_

_Uh oh_.

I leaned back, ready to dash. "…nightmares?"

"No! No, no, no! Geez, that's morbid." Rapunzel pushed back her hair. "I represent dreams, but past dreams. Sorta. Kinda. Not really. Ummm…" reading the ceiling, she drummed fingers into her lips.

I waited, tilting my head as if it would help Rapunzel think.

Suddenly she snapped her fingers. "Remember eighth grade?"

That pretty much floored me, threw me under a bus, sucked out my soul, _etcetera_. It. Freaked. Me. Out.

_How did she know about that?_

I don't remember but I must have asked because Rapunzel explained.

"I love dreams." she said, pressing a cheek into her shoulder. Her eyes wavered over Flynn Rider, yapping it up with three year old across the café "But, it's really weird because I only get to talk about dreams with kids…when dreams start dying."

"Dying? Dying how?"

Rapunzel paused. She stared at a glimmering strand of hair. Slowly she began to braid it. "Dreams are…interesting. Some dreams – when they die – are like sunrises and sunsets. The sun always sets, just like some of our dreams. But…a new one always rises in its place. Just as bright. Just as beautiful. But…maybe just a little different than the last."

"But. Other dreams…die differently." Rapunzel looked up. The braided strand melted away. "Other dreams, are like shooting stars. Bright, intense, powerful, direct. But…for some reason, they fall, sputter…"

Gently, Rapunzel splayed her fingers. "…and die. Disappearing into darkness."

Silence.

Rapunzel sighed. "I know it is hard to hear. But, I'm just here to tell you – "

"—that I'm an awful person."

Rapunzel perked, surprised by the acid in my voice. "You make mistakes." she began, searching my face. "And that's okay. You have to make your own decisions. No…I'm just here to tell you that whatever your dream…even if it stinks…"

She waited. I did not laugh, even though the movie line was appreciated.

Tentatively she inched forward, touching my wrist. "…._it is still your dream_. And as long as it makes you excited to wake up every day, then you're doing fine."

I closed my eyes. Slowly, I slid my hand from beneath Rapunzel's.

"I think you should go."

Rapunzel didn't move. "No, no. Listen. I'm sorry! I know it hurts. Believe me, I know you're confused! I know what it's like to feel – "

"—you know? _You know?_" Angrily, I pushed, backing from the table. "You don't know! No one knows who I am! No one knows my fears! And no one knows my dreams! And do you know why?"

Wrathfully, I stood. "Because I don't know! I have no idea! None! And, I have given up everything – _everything_ – to be whatever the Hell it is I am today! And as for dreams – "

I shouldered my bag. The book corners stabbed my spine. "—call it a shooting star because I gave up! After seeing _Tangled_ as a matter of fact! Hours after I saw _Tangled_ – hours after leaving the movie theater – I cried. Sobbed. _And do you know why_?"

People were looking. Disney characters muttered, some concerned, some not. The thespians snorted. The art school rejects shook heads. The five-year-olds pitied. Mickey Mouse just stared.

And Rapunzel spoke. Softly. As if she already knew. "Why?"

I stared. Then, eyes stinging, I trudged out the door, catching my heart on the threshhold. "…because I wasn't part of it. Because…I'd never have the chance...to...make...to make..."

I opened my eyes.

I was outside. Snow was falling. Twinkling really, but when you're upset things tend not to twinkle.

I looked around. The coffee shop was dark. Furtively I peered under the CLOSED sign, through the window.

Nothing.

"Whatever." Shrugging into the evening, I made for the library. "I have a midterm to study for."

As I said, the snow was falling/twinkling. Traffic was merciless. My toes were cold. My thoughts were colder.

So…I didn't see them following.


	5. Chapter 5: Our Fate

**Chapter 5: Our Fate**

It would be redundant to say the library was quiet. But it was. It was too quiet. Quiet enough for me to hear all my lovely, self-loathing subconscious thoughts.

My textbook sat before me. I had read the same sentence fifty seven times. Exhausted, I laid my forehead down, trying to press my unhappy thoughts into the page.

No dice. I was just dissed by three _Disney _characters. My life was a hopeless mess. And the prospects didn't look good.

There was no way I was studying tonight.

"Who cares." I muttered, massaging my head against the textbook. It was so thick. A lifetime of knowledge for a lifetime of work.

I closed my eyes. Remembering Rapunzel's warning, I prepared to give up the one thing I had wanted since eighth grade. The one thing I wanted _so bad_.

"Who the Hell cares." I clenched the corners of my textbook, trying not to cry. "Dreams are make-pretend. All those fairytales are full of shit. "

"Hey. Sailor's Mouth! Bad form, there's a lady present!"

_Bad form, there's a lady present?_ Well, that was an expression rarely heard in twenty first century America. And it did not improve my mood.

Initially embarrassed to be overhead, then irritated at the demand for etiquette, I let my temper fly.

"Listen!" I popped up. "Listen, I'm too tired to put up with - shit!"

"I told you." A mess of red hair, pointed ears, and wickedly attractive eyes smiled at me across the desk. Placing an arm protectively around the girl beside him, the red haired boy wagged a knife at my mouth. "Quit the cussing. Not in front of my Wendy Lady. Got it?"

I gawked.

"Holy…" I breathed, eyes darting between the boy and girl. "Holy...holy crow. You're...you're…"

The redhead boy grinned.

"Wendy Something - Something - Darling. And _the one, the only_, the smartest, the fastest, the strongest, the cleverest…" the boy rose and thumped both hands on his hips. "...Peter Pan!"

By then, the shock had worn off.

"Dude." I glanced across the library. "You're not going start singing or something are you?"

Wendy Darling covered her mouth, hiding a soft laugh. She straightened as Peter placed a hand on her shoulder.

"Well. Old Hook was right. She's mouthy." I raised a brow as Peter addressed Wendy but nodded darkly to me. "I don't like the look of this girl, Wendy. And I don't want you talking to her. Come on. Let's go."

I snorted. "Chauvinist."

Peter leapt over the desk, feet leaving the floor. Startled, I leaned back and nearly tipped from my chair. Peter bore down until we were nose to nose. It was unnerving. Bizzare. He hung weightlessly, like a puppet on invisible strings.

"Peter!"

Peter wavered and I saw Wendy tugging his leafy tunic from the corner of my eye. "Peter! Please! If we get caught - "

"What did you call me?" Peter demanded, invading the red zone of my personal space. "_Girl_?"

I growled. It was not the first time someone called me 'girl' to be condescending. Nevertheless, fairytale character or sleep-deprived-hallucination, this creep had better back off before I annihilated him with the pepper spray stashed in my backpack.

"You, _Peter Pan_…" I answered, words fast and disarticulated in my rage. "...are a chauvinist, and I've thought so since I was four years old! It's a word that is _way _too big for you to understand but a word that _she _-"

I pointed at Wendy. " - is probably too polite to tell you _exactly _what it means!"

Peter raised his arm. The knife flashed over his fist. Foregoing the pepper spray, I grabbed my textbook. It was brick heavy and I guessed would sufficiently break his nose.

"Enough! Now that is quite enough!"

Peter and I turned, surprised. I anticipated a retaliation, but I expected it to come from Peter, not from Wendy.

"Both of you behave! Peter!" Wendy wrenched. "Sit down!"

Peter _flumped_. I was impressed. Either Wendy was stronger than she looked, or Peter was just startled into ultra obedience. I guessed it was a little of both.

I wanted to congratulate her, but Wendy turned on me next.

"And you! Namecalling? Why those were dreadful things to say!"

"Me?" Incredulous, I pointed at Peter. Anger rekindled when I saw his smirk. "He's the one that called me _'girl_!'"

"You are a girl!" Wendy said.

"You _know_ what I mean!" I said with a wrathful glance. "It was the way he said it! He did it to you in the movie! He called you a girl to be - "

Defensively, Peter stood. "I didn't know Wendy's name!"

"Well you dismissed her pretty quickly when she tried to tell you!"

"Wendy was enough! I liked the sound and I didn't need to know the rest!"

"What kind of _crap _line is that?"

"Both of you!" Wendy cried, forcing us apart. "_Enough_! You're going to give us away- "

She stopped. Breathlessly, she touched her chest. "Peter. Outside. The window."

Peter snapped. He zipped to the window. Had I not been ready to scalp him, I would have been moved by Peter's instant reaction to Wendy's plea.

"Uh oh." Peter put his hand on Wendy's head. "Down!"

Wendy and Peter dropped. They moved synchronously, like two hands on a clock. It was less admirable than sickeningly sweet, but still I envied their relationship. Just a smidge.

"Pst!" Peter motioned from under the desk. "Hey! Girl! Get down!"

"Peter!" Wendy scolded in a whisper. "Peter, she doesn't like to be called that!"

"What?" I asked, stepping over Peter's arm and to the window. I pressed my nose against the dark glass. "What is it? Oh."

The coffee I had earlier curdled in my stomach. Nauseated, I stared at the snowy street. "Captain Hook."

"It's Hook, alright!" Peter poked out his head. "And Mickey Mouse! Boy are we in trouble! So come on, Girl! Get down!"

"Please!" Wendy begged. "Oh please, before we get caught! I promise this won't take long!"

"Tempting." I muttered, breath fogging the pane. Rubbing it clean, I peered at Captain Hook and Mickey Mouse. They peered back, two faces obscured by snowflakes. It was hard to tell if they were real, or just shadows in the wintry night.

'What do they want?" I asked as Mickey Mouse looked straight at me. A weird feeling prickled up my spine and into my brain. Mickey Mouse smiled as if he knew a secret; like we had met before or were going to meet again. It was strange.

I half turned from the window. "And why are you hiding from them?"

Peter nudged Wendy. "Wow. Someone doesn't pay attention to her heroes and villains, huh Wendy?"

"I _get _the Captain Hook thing." I said as Wendy sighed exasperatedly. "And for the record, if you hauled _me _off to Neverland - "

"- HA!"

"- I'd jumpship to the Jolly Roger like _that_!" I informed him, snapping my fingers for emphasis.

Peter - to my annoyance - just laughed.

"Ha. Okay Girl." he said, yanking me down. Satisfied, he sat back as I situated under the desk. "Why am I not surprised? Takes a pirate to like a pirate. Besides, Hook _was _your first character. Right?"

Mockingly, Peter made air quotes. "'_Symm-bolized_' you and all. Isn't that precious? Two codfish in a - "

An outside cry interrupted Peter's insult. It was muffled, but sounded an awful lot like '_I'll get you Peter Pan! If it's the last thing I do!'_'

Wendy bit her lip. "Oh dear. Captain Hook."

"Dirty rotten codfish." Peter considered the window. His foot tapped wildly. His free hand probed Wendy's knee. Once he looked at her, then at the window, then at me. He scowled, then returned to window.

It was obvious Peter was thinking. It was more obvious that he didn't like his options.

"Peter." Wendy smoothed his hand. "Go. I'll be fine. We will only take a moment."

"I don't know, Wendy." Peter glared at me. "She looks dangerous."

Wendy laughed gently. "She's not. Just lost. Really. Go."

Peter rubbed his knife. "You sure?"

Wendy nodded. A second vexed cry (accompanied by a snowball) hit the pane.

"I don't think Captain Hook will wait. Go on." Blushing, Wendy folded her legs so Peter could pass. "Be brave."

Those were the magic words. Amazed, I shifted as Peter crawled from under the desk, pausing only to warn me that if I hurt Wendy he would basically run me through and feed me to the crocodile.

"Where's he going?" I asked as Peter flew over the bookshelves and through the exit. I had been unable to completely follow the telepathic part of their conversation. "Back to wherever you guys come from?"

"Neverland." Wendy corrected, watching Peter until he vanished down the hall. "But Peter left to distract Mickey Mouse and Captain Hook. We're not suppose to be here, you know. But, I wanted to meet you and...well Peter brought me. He is very brave. And he _is not_…"

Wendy inflected reprimand into her voice. "..._.a chauvinist_."

I literally had to bite my tongue.

"Whatever." I said, deciding not to argue. "I just don't understand _why _you put up with him."

Wendy smiled. "Dear me. I'm surprised you watched our movie at all."

"Uchhh." I rolled my eyes. "My brother. He thought he was Peter Pan. Literally watched the movie every day."

Wendy glowed. "How lovely! So you watched it often?"

"Non stop." Wryly, I pretended to shoot myself in the head. "_Seared_ into my memory. Peter kinda drove me nuts. You should've punched him like a billion times."

Wendy covered her mouth. "Goodness." she giggled.

"Dude." I continued, relaxing as she smiled. "You could do way better than Peter Pan."

"Well." Amused, Wendy brushed her hair. "I hardly agree. I do wish you wouldn't be so hard on him. Peter Pan _is _wonderful - "

Fail.

"- however." Wendy glanced at the window. The snowfall was dwindling on the other side. " That is not why I came. I came to meet you."

"Um. Why?"

Quizzically, Wendy cocked her head. "The Meet and Greet. You were there. Yes?"

"The Meet and Greet?" I blinked. "But Mickey Mouse said that was only for characters that represent some part of your- wait."

I stammered in disbelief. "Wait - you don't think - are you telling me that - you - and I- that we're -"

Wendy waited, expectantly. "Alike."

I stared.

Then I laughed. "Stop! Come on! No way!"

Wendy stiffened. "Something funny?"

"Funny? Oh good gods, no offense…" I waved the air between us. "...but we are nothing alike! _Nothing _alike!"

Wendy seemed to be taking serious offense. "Is that so hard to believe?"

"Are you kidding me! Where do I begin?" I gestured to the sky. "First of all, you think Peter is the bomb, and I think he's the stuff the bomb blew up!"

Wendy crossed her arms. "Is that all?"

"_Is that all_? No that's not all! I mean….just look at me! Just look... at you!"

I considered that a perfect explanation, but it clearly wasn't sufficient for Wendy. So, awkwardly I continued.

"Well I mean, you're just so...you!" I began, shrugging my shoulders and twisting uncomfortably. I didn't want to be rude, but it was hard while navigating the truth.

"You're so...delicate, and proper, and prim! You are so freaking polite and just let Peter walk all over you! And - "

I stopped. Horrified, I touched my lips.

I am a pessimist. And a cynic. I also have a temper like a light switch - either it's on, or it's off. There is no inbetween.

But I am _never _that cruel.

What the Hell was wrong with me?

I felt sick.

But Wendy, was calm.

"Are you through?"

Pretty sure I nodded.

Wendy sighed.

"Well." she tucked a loose ribbon behind her ear. "I hoped that you - _especially_ you - would have judged me less."

Oh, I was going to Hell.

"Wendy." I said. "I'm. I'm s - "

"Do you mind if I try?"

Her voice was so gentle it hurt.

"Try?"

Wendy nodded. "To tell you how we are alike."

_No! _My common sense screamed. "Um…" I said.

"The first thing I noticed, just now in fact…" Wendy smoothed her dress. Her nose was a little pink. "...is that we both talk too fast, and too much…"

She looked up. "...when we're nervous. Or upset."

I stared. That was true. My teachers rebuked me for talking too fast.

"Second…." Wendy said. "... we tend not to take credit for our work. Think of me. And Peter's shadow. He never thanked me. But I would never ask. Third…"

Wendy was speaking faster now. I swear she could see the lightbulbs flashing in my head.

"Third: you call me proper. Prim."

I winced.

"But I know…" Wendy offered a forgiving touch, "...that like me, you have small tolerance for immaturity. You thrive in your own imagination, but you expect practically from the world around you. The balance between fantasy and reality is where you feel safe."

"Fourth…" Wendy rubbed the right hand corner of her mouth. "Peter. How did you phrase it? Walking...walking all over me?"

I gulped. But Wendy smiled, pushing the magical spot under her lips into a dimple.

"You have Merida's fierce independence. You're proud of it. And you should be. But…." Wendy raised a finger, "... you also like gentlemen to open doors, stand when you enter, and ask to kiss your hand after a dance. And I think…"

Wendy watched as I instinctively closed my fingers. She smiled as they tingled, and I remembered my first kiss.

"I think…" Wendy continued. "I think that you, like me, would want to fly alone. Alone and fast as you could….but still have someone stronger….to catch you if you fall."

By then I was paralyzed. Wendy had disproved every one of my accusations and preconceived notions. I had discredited her in my anger. But she disarmed me with her kindness.

Wendy, unequivocally, had won.

Then, she nearly killed me.

"Last…" Wendy took my hand. Her blue eyes held me still. "...we are both trapped between two worlds. And our fate - is to decide. My decision was simple: my world or Peter's. One life to grow up; or a life forever with a boy...that could never love."

I could hear the sadness breaking and re-breaking Wendy's heart.

"And you're decision." Wendy said, pushing through her grief. "Also has two worlds. This world…"

She gestured to the library. "The world with all this knowledge, all these books, and all the responsibility and family expectations. And….the second world. The world imagined by an eighth grade girl…"

My heart beat in my mouth as Wendy spoke.

"...that just wanted to write."

I didn't realize that I was crying, until Wendy brushed my tear.

"The reason…" Wendy whispered, "...that I wanted to meet you - "

_Tap. Tap. Tap._

"Wendy."

Numbly I turned. Outside , the snow had stopped falling. Peter floated behind the window sill. Constellations outlined his body as he smiled through the glass. "Come on, Wendy. Time to go home. Off to Neverland!"

Wendy smiled. Peter smiled back.

"The reason…" Wendy pressed my hands inside hers. "...that I wanted to meet you, is because our fates are similar. But not the same. I could only have one world...but…"

Wistfully, Wendy gazed at Peter Pan.

"...but you...might be able...to have two."

Wendy gave her addendum before disappearing with Peter into the stars

"...only. _Only_. If you try."


End file.
